


A Taste of Power

by goldenteaset



Category: Dance with Devils (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Because this is Shiki and Ritsuka's kind, Dreams and Nightmares, Enthusiastic Consent, F/M, Face Slapping, Hugs, Light Masochism, Light Sadism, Post-Episode 6
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-09
Updated: 2016-12-09
Packaged: 2018-08-30 21:46:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8550301
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldenteaset/pseuds/goldenteaset
Summary: Ritsuka needs to feel strong. Shiki eagerly complies.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I don't own Dance With Devils.

“True, a grave expression suits you well, but I wish to see you smile a little! That would be an eternal delight to me…” Goethe’s Faust, Act II, Scene V

 

_All Shiki can hear is the shriek of the wind as he rushes downward. The warmth of Heaven’s light soon fades away, replaced with an icy chill. The speed and force of his free-fall pricks at his eyes, making him shed tears._

_Soon he discovers that’s not the only reason he’s crying. His wings—he can feel searing pain lance through them, can smell the acrid stench of feathers burning._ Help _, he wants to say, but he knows no one will listen._

_His throat burns as he cries out—_

—And wakes up just as he _thumps_ to the floor.

Shiki groans and struggles to sit up, angrily shoving the tangled blankets off his legs. Thankfully, Urie and Mage are still asleep downstairs; he doesn’t have to deal with “jokes” about how they never have nightmares. _They’re liars. Everyone has something they don’t like dreaming about…right?_

The worst part of that dream is that Shiki doesn’t know if it happened or not. It could be from a play he saw years ago or an actual event, and he’s too lost to tell the difference.

He sighs and climbs back onto his couch, staring up at the library ceiling. He’s asked Rem for years to paint the boring brown with beautiful colors and scenes, like the mural he made when they first arrived at this place—but Rem’s a stubborn old goat and refuses every time. _Maybe I’ll do it anyway, just to spite him. And then he’ll retaliate…_ Shiki chuckles at the thought.

Right now, even Rem’s annoyance has no appeal—the pain from the nightmare still lingers like a rash. He tosses and turns, runs his fingers up and down his back—despite his wings rustling beneath his skin as whole as always, the feeling of loss remains.

Shiki suspects the dream was sparked by the Holy Water dumped on him today. Even if it didn’t do much to him—it felt good, in fact—it still reminded him of what he lost. The pain in his wings is the only detail that he knows happened.

_I need…to feel good right now._

He ponders some of the usual suspects—painting, teasing Roen, humans’ ever-shifting expressions, wanton sighs, open wounds, the unique taste of a soul—but the relief they offer is temporary.

Just as he’s ready to scream in frustration, he thinks of Ritsuka. Ritsuka, who recently lost so much and gained so little; Ritsuka, who is confused and scared and still seeking answers.

Ritsuka, who—now more than ever—needs to feel strong.

Shiki smiles and gets dressed.

\---

Shiki decides to be old-fashioned and toss a rock at her bedroom window. It’s a tried-and-true method. Despite his assuredness, he still keeps a lookout for Ritsuka’s Berserk Big Brother—dealing with that guy on top of everything else would be a pain. By some miracle, it looks like Berserk Big Brother is busy being Brooding Big Brother, and who is Shiki to interrupt?

He chooses the smallest, lightest pebble he can find and throws very gently. _Brooding Big Brother better not be listening…_

 _Clink_. The pebble hits the window frame without a scratch. There’re no alarm bells going off, either.

Shiki inwardly applauds himself.

He doesn’t get to say _psst_ before Ritsuka appears at the window, looking as adorably disheveled and sleep-deprived as he’d imagined. Her loose-fitting pajamas are plainer than he expected, and the color reminds him of buttercups. A ring gleams on her finger. She blinks owlishly at him, the moonlight giving her skin a milky complexion instead of the ill pallor expected of her current state. 

“ _Shiki_?” Though the glass muffles her voice, he can read her lips.

He wiggles his fingers in greeting and creeps toward her, the moon casting his hunched shadow over the lawn. When he sees she’s about to say something else—perhaps to call for her brother—he puts a finger to his lips and speeds up. _I haven’t done anything yet! The_ nerve _of some people…_

Once he’s in front of her, with the window between them, Shiki whispers “You couldn’t sleep either, hmm? You poor thing.”

Ritsuka rubs her eyes and scowls. “Shiki…why are you here?”

“Huh? Didn’t I just tell you? I couldn’t sleep, and after the trouble you had I thought you couldn’t sleep either. So I came to help.”

“…I’m calling Lindo.”

Shiki sighs and stares dismally at the grass. “…Okay. Go ahead.”

“Seriously? You’ll—you’ll get—”

“Killed?” He giggles; heat crawls up and down his back. “Doesn’t that sound wonderful?”

“No.” Her gaze slides left, then right, then to him again. “You and Lindo…you could get hurt. I don’t want that.”

“I know. If I promise I won’t hurt or kill you or your brother, will you let me in?”

Ritsuka’s a suspicious girl. “Promise _how_?”

For once, he’ll oblige. “On my word as a fallen angel, I won’t hurt or kill you or your brother.”

Remembering a pirate he once knew, he spins around three times and spits in the bushes. It’s a strange charm, but it’s worked before.

As the world keeps spinning, he asks “Will that work?”

The window opens with a soft creak, and Ritsuka’s hesitant chuckle makes the world slowly realign. “You don’t have to make yourself sick! It—it’s fine. After you stop feeling dizzy, come inside.”

After a few deep breaths, he does. Ritsuka’s room looks and feels comfortable—the definition of “a resting place”. He tries not to be nosy and keeps his eyes focused on impersonal things, like drawers or the homework on Ritsuka’s desk. (He’s impressed she’s able to remember school assignments at a time like this.)

He removes his shoes and places them by the windowsill, feeling Ritsuka’s eyes on him. He makes it a point to slowly straighten up, letting her see how smoothly his back arches.

“So,” she says, brows pinched and arms folded, “how were you going to ‘help’ me?”

Shiki wiggles his sock-covered feet in the carpet and looks at her through lowered lashes. “By helping you feel _strong_. For example, when I froze you in my memory-labyrinth, you felt weak, right? So now you can get back at me for it.”

To illustrate what he means, he stands straight and stays perfectly still. He blinks slowly, both to maintain the illusion and to ensure he doesn’t miss her reaction. Ritsuka looks at him uncomprehendingly at first, but her eyes soon widen in understanding.

“You…you want me to _hurt you_?”

“I’d like that very much. But I want to see what you’d like.” He grins. “Go ahead. I can take it.”

Ritsuka lowers her arms to her sides. She looks ready to object, but there’s a light in her eyes that suggests otherwise. It’s not vengeance, or bloodlust, but something sweet.

“Okay, but…how’ll I know when to stop?”

“I’ll say ‘stop’.”

She strides forward, her head bowed. He watches the way her fingers curl and uncurl, how her legs become increasingly steady the closer she gets to him. His heart quivers in anticipation. _Yes…let me see what you can do…_

Ritsuka’s in front of him now, her bangs obscuring her eyes. Her right hand moves, his mind buzzes with possibilities—

—And her fingers brush against his cheek, leaving tingling warmth in their wake. He manages to stay still, but it’s already a strain.

“Does…” She’s blushing too. “Does it feel nice, Shiki?”

“Mm-hmm.”

Ritsuka’s lips twitch. “I’m glad. If you want, you can talk.”

Her hand curls behind his ear, stroking gently. He bites his lip to keep from laughing at the tickling sensation. As if noticing his discomfort, she strokes his hair instead. He practically purrs at the soothing feeling of her fingers running back and forth, lightly scratching him…

“Your hair is…soft.” Ritsuka keeps her gaze somewhere past his head. “I wasn’t expecting that, since it looks so messy.”

“Windswept.”

“Eh?”

“Nothing.”

Ritsuka’s hand stills, and she looks him in the eye. It appears something’s occurred to her. “What were you planning to do with me in the labyrinth?”

Shiki frowns. “But we’re not in the labyrinth.”

“That doesn’t matter. I want to know if…” She lifts her free hand to her throat, and he can see the lingering fear in her eyes.

“I want you to be mine, and mine alone. That hasn’t changed.”

Ritsuka makes a noise of disbelief. “You’re not answering my—”

Shiki’s patience is beginning to fade. He cocks his head to one side, exposing the smooth curve of his neck. He yearns to take her hand and direct it where he wishes, but that’s not how this game is played.

“I’m helpless before you, from my limbs to my voice.” He lowers his voice to a seductive purr. “What are you planning to do, Ri-tsu- _ka_?”

The playful fragmenting of her name is what catches her. He feels her hand retreat, the speed of it ruffling his hair. He closes his eyes and waits for that wonderful squeezing feeling around his throat—

“Shiki, look at me.” Her voice is gently commanding.

He does, a little disappointed that she didn’t get angry. Instead, she looks as though she’s trying to figure out what to say. Her hands twist in her pajama shirt, and he can’t help but stare at the way she bites her lip before speaking.

“I-I know what I want, so…please hug me.”

 _What an adorable request._ Shiki opens his arms and holds her close, the way he did at the rose garden. He’s enveloped by her sweet scent, her soft skin, and by the pounding of her heart. Her head is resting on his chest, and he can feel wetness on his shirt. Contented warmth nestles in his body.

“What’s wrong?”

Ritsuka’s voice is muffled. “Everything.”

“Oh?” He holds her tighter, his hands sliding up and down the warm, trembling slope of her back. “You poor thing, to learn all those terrible truths in one day…your heart must be ready to break!”

She sniffles an affirmative.

“You can tell me, you know. I can keep a secret.”

Ritsuka’s shoulders tense, though he tried to keep his excitement from his voice. “You know my secrets already.”

“Oops.”

She chuckles. Her arms clutch at him as though he’s her only comfort. He relishes the moment—this can’t last long since she doesn’t trust him.

After a long moment, Ritsuka untangles from him and wipes her unshed tears away. “Thanks, Shiki.”

Shiki grins and bows politely. “It’s no trouble.” _Hopefully this isn’t the end…_

Ritsuka looks at him with less uncertainty now. “I suppose…I suppose there’s something else you can do for me.”

“Yes?” Relief floods through him. The things he wants to do to or for her are increasing by the second; at this rate he'll have a list as long as his wings.

She sits on her bed; the mattress _creaks_ softly. “Today, I learned that I’m the Grimoire. I’m not really human, then. Just…an object.”

Shiki senses where this is going. “You want to feel like more than that.”

“Yes. Because I _am_ more than that.”

“Of course. An object can’t think and feel. But that power’s a part of you, like my wings are part of me. That’s a truth you shouldn’t hide from.”

Silence fills the room. Ritsuka looks at him with determined eyes, her back straight and her hands on her lap. She’s been taking lessons from Rem. _Or perhaps they were always alike?_ Shiki doesn’t know how to feel about that.

“Shiki…you _really_ want me to hurt you, huh?”

“Just because receiving pain from you would be delicious doesn’t mean I’m not being honest.” His lips curl upwards. “Ah, do you want me to beg for it?”

He glides to his knees in a fluid motion, looking up at her through his lashes. He clasps his hands and holds them up, a worshipper before his goddess.

He hears her gasp softly, and it delights him.

“Please, Ritsuka,” he whispers, his voice throbbing with need. “Please use me more…”

Ritsuka shakes her head wildly, her hair flopping about. “Th-that won’t be necessary right n—” She claps a hand to her mouth in shock; an endearing flush spreads across her face. “I mean…that is…”

Shiki grins and eases into a sitting position. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

She pouts. “I meant that I just want to talk, that’s all.”

“…Talk?”

“Uh-huh. Just like we’re friends from school. About classes, or hobbies…those kinds of things.” She looks at him with sweet slyness. “You did say your voice was helpless before me.”

He chuckles. “So I did.”

While Shiki’s aware that she could’ve asked anyone to grant this little wish, that she’s willing to ask _him_ gives him great pleasure and pride. She wants a classmate for a little while—that’s doable. It might even be entertaining. _But where to start…?_

He looks around her room and notices an easel standing in the corner, along with bottles of paint in a myriad of colors. His dilemma’s solved.

“Ah, you like painting too!”

Ritsuka’s eyes light up in happiness for the first time all night. After that, there’s no stopping them: they commiserate on how difficult it is to get certain shades and textures, laugh about their mishaps over the years (Ritsuka tried to finger-paint her bedroom walls as a girl, while Shiki was mistaken for a muse by a drunken Renaissance artist), and discover each others’ favorite subjects (animals and portraits for Ritsuka, people and abstract images for Shiki). Outside, the brilliant moon begins to slink downward, and the stars shine brighter.

During a lull in the conversation, Ritsuka looks at him with surprise.

“What’s wrong?” Shiki instinctively turns around to make sure Berserk Big Brother didn’t sneak in while they were talking.

“It’s nothing serious,” she says, laughing softly as he turns back to face her. “It’s just…you had a cute smile just now.”

He fumbles for a response. “I’m glad…your expressions are the best, though. The way you show your emotions without any restraint…it’s intoxicating!”

Ritsuka turns the topic back to painting, but he can tell she’s amused by his reaction.

The conversation winds down as Ritsuka’s eyes begin to droop. Shiki watches her slowly lie back on her bed, one arm dangling off the edge of the mattress, her shirt collar falling back to reveal the curve of her neck. He’s too tired to appreciate the sight. _Time to go…unfortunately._

As he heads to the window, however, he hears Ritsuka stir.

“Wait,” she says, and lazily gestures for him to come closer.

He strolls over and stops beside her bed. She reaches out and takes his hand. Her thumb strokes over his knuckles, and she runs her fingers around his, as if memorizing every detail. As the tingling feeling she creates sparks through his body, Shiki wonders if she’s the teasing type.

After a long moment, she lets go of his hand. Then: “Well, since you were so nice, I should repay you. Um, you said you liked pain…”

“ _Very_ much.” Shiki points to his cheek. “Here’s a good spot, very cushy.”

Ritsuka nods, but she still looks uncertain. It appears she’ll need a little nudge.

Shiki grins and cocks his head to one side. “Would Azuna hesitate, I wo—”

_Slap._

_“Ah!”_

A stinging sensation flares against his cheek. His eyes pop open in shock. He lifts his hand and gingerly touches the growing bruise, the aftershocks tingling across his skin. He looks at Ritsuka, at her shocked face, the elegant curve of her arm, the way the ring gleams in the moonlight.

Ritsuka’s throat bobs; her eyes are bright and glistening. “I—I’m sorry, you didn’t deserve—”

“Wonderful,” Shiki moans, as the pain subsides to a dull ache. A hot trickle of blood runs down his cheek. “Absolutely _wonderful!_ ”

The look she’s giving him now is a familiar one: the surprise at what’s just happened, combined with amazement at her reactions—and a little bit of confusion toward him.

She blushes and retreats, yanking her blankets over her head. All he can see is her wide eyes. “I-It was probably too much…sorry!”

Shiki makes a point to slowly lick the coppery blood away, heat gliding through his body. “It was delicious. Thank you.”

Ritsuka burrows deeper under the blankets. “G-Goodnight.”

“Goodnight. See you tomorrow.” He lightly pats where he suspects her head is and takes his leave.

As he flies back to the Third Library, he feels satisfied. His cheek throbs comfortingly as the wind blows against Ritsuka’s mark. _There may have been less pain than I’d like, but I got to see lots of cute expressions from her. Soon, I’ll get to see more…_

Yes, that will be a delight greater than any heavenly joy.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :D


End file.
